


112 - Cocoon

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Reader-Insert, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “Can you do a story inspired by Cocoon?”





	112 - Cocoon

You met Van at the bar at your university. He didn't go to the school; he was trying to talk the manager into letting his band play there. "Mate. I don't know you. Never heard of your fuckin' band, so-" the manager was saying when you overheard.

"You haven't heard his band?" you interrupted. "Seriously? They're amazing. My friend has a tattoo of some of their lyrics and everything. Proper class, you know?"

Van looked at you with confused eyes but a wildly happy smirk. The manager looked from you to him, then sighed hard. "Fine. Give us a call Friday afternoon and I'll see if there's a spot open, alright?"

"Thank you! You won't fucking regret it. Promise you that, Sir," Van said. The manager walked away with a roll of the eyes. Van turned to you then. "Your friend don't have a tattoo of my lyrics,"

"No. They don't. What's your band called?"

"Catfish and the Bottlemen,"

"Yeah. Never heard of you," you laughed. 

Van stuck his hand out and introduced himself. He asked if you'd come to the show, if they got to play. You shrugged and walked away before he could ask for anything else. He was your good deed of the day, nothing else. That, at least, is what you told your friends who were waiting at the table. They scoffed.

"Nothing to do with his stupid fucking leather jacket?" Ali said.

"He's tryin' very hard," Andy added.

You hushed them and changed the subject.

…

The bar made a post about their weekend lineup. Catfish had a Saturday night spot, and you chewed your lip as you decided what to do. In the end, you got lucky and didn't have to proactively do a thing. Your friends wanted beer, and the uni bar was the cheapest place. 

Van was already there when you arrived. You could feel his eyes following you around the room, and under the gaze you felt special. It gave you confidence, and the jokes you made to your friends were funnier and bolder.

By the time Catfish played you were already tipsy. It could have been why you were so profoundly impressed with their messy guitar sound, but really they were just that good. As Van packed away his guitar you bounced up to him. He stood as you arrived, and you collided. You tripped over a lead, and almost fell, but he caught you in his arms. "Hi," he said as he set you back on your feet. The blood in your body rushed to your face and you could feel yourself going all red.

"Hey,"

"What did you think?"

"Really very good," you were sticking to simple sentences. The booze killing your coherency.

"Yeah? Thank you," he said and even drunk you knew he meant it. "What's your name? You never told me,"

"Y/N,"

"Y/N, right. I'm Van,"

"Yeah. You told me the other day,"

"I know, but you're a bit drunk; thought you might not remember me," he said, smiling gently.

"I remember you,"

"Evidently. I'd offer to buy you a drink… but looks like you're good. Do you maybe want a water?"

"I want crisps," you replied immediately. He laughed. Van nodded at his band, who understood whatever he meant. You followed him away from the stage, taking his hand so he could help you step over the leads without falling. It was an act of politeness you appreciated.

At the bar, Van pulled a stool over for you and you sat. He stood next to you and watched you eat the chips. "You're gonna have to drink faster than that if you want to catch up to me," you told him between mouthfuls.

"Oh, it's a competition, is it?" he laughed. You nodded. "Can't outdrink me, love. Too little, see," he told you. He was probably right, but it wouldn’t stop you trying. 

By the time your friends found you and Van sitting on the steps outside, you were both near paralytically drunk. Van was leaving hickies on your neck, and you were giggling and pulling at the collar of his leather jacket.

"Fuck, Y/N!" Andy said. He grabbed your hands and pulled you away from Van. You could hardly walk, let alone protest. "She's way too drunk for you to be doin' this, mate," he said to Van. Van looked at him confused. He was just as drunk as you, and even if neither of you had said it - the consent was there in abundance. You were the one that led Van outside, and the one to kiss him first.

You waved bye to Van as Andy carried you off into the night with your friends. You listened to them talk shit about Van and his band, and if you could figure out how to coordinate brain and mouth you would have defended him. Fuck them, you thought.

…

The next morning your phone rang. It was a sound that was far too loud and as soon as you were awake you needed to throw up. You ran to the bathroom and only just made it. Minutes later you crawled back into bed; the taste of the toothpaste making your stomach churn again. You looked at your phone. The missed call was from a number you didn’t recognise. You called back.

"Hey," Van's voice was almost a whisper.

"Thank you for whispering, but your call woke me up and now I am suffering," you said, skipping the hello.

"I'm sorry. How are ya?"

You talked, and when your phone went flat mid conversation you realised you'd been speaking for over an hour. Your voice was croaky. You put your phone on charge and ventured out into the house. You still lived with your family. The house was close enough to the city that it didn't make sense to leave while still at uni. They were all giving you the silent treatment.

"Did I do something?" you asked your sister as she poured you coffee. Your parents had left for the Sunday markets without saying anything to you.

"Andy and Ali brought you home and you threw up on the front doorstep,"

"I don't remember that,"

"Mmmm. Mum and Dad are well pissed. Did you also forget that we have that family dinner thing tomorrow night?"

Fuck. Yes. You had. Monday night your entire extended family were coming over, and you knew your hangover would probably still be there.

"How can I get out of it?"

Your little sister laughed. "You can’t. I did because I have a test on Tuesday morning so I get to stay at Clara's. Only one pass per family." You groaned. She asked about your night then, and you filled her head with daydreams of boys in leather jackets. You knew she thought you were living the dream.

…

"I didn't think you'd actually come," you told Van when you met him out the front of yours Monday afternoon. You'd told him about the family thing when your phone charged and you could call him back.

"Wouldn't dream of lettin' you down, Y/N. Rather go blind,"

"That's really fucking dramatic considering you've known me for, what, a week?" you laughed. He shrugged and followed you inside.

You knew your parents would hate him, but you hadn't anticipated how rude they'd be. When he told them he was in a band your dad laughed in his face. "And I thought Y/N had picked a useless thing to do," he said. You pulled Van away before either of you could snap.

In your room, you tried to light a cigarette but your hands were shaking. Van helped, and watched you blow smoke out the window. Your parents didn't know you smoked, and would kill you for it. They didn't know a lot about you though. 

Van sat on your bed and waited. "Come here," he finally said and pulled you onto the bed to rest on him. You curled up and put your head in his lap. He ran his fingers through your hair. "Fuck 'em, Y/N. Doesn't matter if they don't get you. Don't matter if your friends don't like me either. Let 'em talk, you know?” 

"It gets to me, though. It's… I get all agitated," you tried to explain what it felt like to be a constant disappointment.

"Come on. Chin up. Just… pretend to be alright for tonight, and tomorrow you can run away or something." 

You laughed at him. He really did romanticise the whole rock and roll rebel lifestyle.

You listened to Van as he told you to breathe in and out. You shut down the negative thoughts and got your game face on. Posing as nothing but positive, you walked back out into the party holding hands with Van. You were right - it had been only a week, but you knew you were already starting to depend on him.

…

It was better being with Van when you were sober, but when you were half cut you couldn't help but call him. Once or twice or more a week you'd phone, and he laughed down the line. He'd appear out of nowhere and wrap himself around your shoulders when you complained about being cold. As you breath turned visible in the subzero temperatures, you pretended to smoke like a kid would. He smiled and kissed you hard. You'd pretend to be drunker than you actually were so that you'd have an excuse to leave your friends behind, an excuse for why you were getting more and more snappy at them, an excuse to let Van lead you away.

His friends were better than yours. You'd only stayed friends with people like Ali and Andy because you didn't know who else to talk to. They'd been your friends in high school, and therefore the relationship didn't really start as a choice. It was easy to drift away from them, and spend more time with the guys. You had a lot in common with Benji's girlfriend Dani, and if you weren't with Van, studying, or sleeping, you were with her. Benji and Van liked it and demanded cute double dates.

You were sitting on the balcony of a bar in the city with Dani when Van came out. He was sweaty from the set he just played. He told Dani Benji was after her, and she disappeared inside. Van took her seat and grinned over at you. You leant into him and kissed his head.

"Gross. I'm all sweaty," he said. You shrugged.

"Still love you," you replied. He grinned again. "Van, I… Just, thank you?"

"For what?" You watched for a second as he used napkins to dry his face. He was adorable.

"Everything. I feel more myself these days, and I think it's 'cause of you and your friends and all this. Life is getting better," you told him.

Van stopped what he was doing and looked over at you. He shook his head a little and replied, "That's alright, babe. Don't need to thank me. Loving you is easy peasy lemon squeezy." You laughed and kissed him again.

Back inside the bar you started another drinking competition that you'd probably not win.


End file.
